Dream trip: A journey on the modern Orient Express had me pinching myself

It’s a complete anachronism to find yourself logging on to the Wi-Fi network on Belmond’s Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, or to even have a mobile phone on board, for that matter. But I’m glad I am. While I swipe away emails, as well as WhatsApp messages from my husband back at home with the kids – too much of a real-life intrusion into this escapist bubble I’m in – I’m thankful to have access to Google Maps so I can track, in real time, our overnight journey from Venice to Paris.

That’s how I know we’re skirting the base of Lake Garda between Verona and Brescia as my sister, who is travelling with me, and I take our first bites into a sesame-and-panko-crusted avocado and crab starter plated on bespoke Bernardaud Limoges porcelain in L’Oriental, one of three dining cars where we will sit down for a meal.

It’s the first clue of the route we’re taking on this quintessential VSOE journey, which historically travelled via the Simplon Pass in Switzerland (hence the name) but today more commonly wends through northern Italy’s Dolomites towards the Brenner Pass at the border with Austria, before crossing the top of Switzerland en route to the French capital.

What might seem like unnecessary detail to some is important to me; after all, different countries offer a different set of landscapes to enjoy from the carriage. And today’s course isn’t projected on a screen anywhere. This train is wonderfully gadget-free, save for our personal devices, which for the most part are kept out of sight. In fact, I note our service doesn’t even show on the departure board at Venice’s Santa Lucia station when we arrive to check in, the requisite 40 minutes before our 11.01am (on the dot) departure.

The only indication of anything a little out of the ordinary amid the usual Venetian commuter and tourist rush on this Tuesday morning in late October is the huddle of smartly dressed people waiting at the entrance to platform two with garment bags, fancy shoes and an air of excited anticipation.

As I track the little blue dot on my iPhone screen inching closer to Brescia, I calculate that we’re too far west to be taking the Brenner Pass. Which can only mean we’re following a less common route, through the Gotthard Tunnel in Switzerland. We’re losing out on Austria’s alpine scenery, although we gain lakes Como and Lugano instead. That seems like a fair compromise.

I may have the advantage of modern technology but I can’t help but sit back and take a sip of satisfaction from my glass of Veuve Clicquot (the train’s house champagne – Belmond is owned by LVMH after all) and feel my skills of deduction would have made Hercule Poirot proud.

The itinerary, I later learn, is left deliberately obtuse. Even the crew hand over their printed timetable to me when I ask, on the caveat that I understand that the stops are unpredictable. Such mystery only serves to stoke the impression that the entire 18-carriage, 450-metre-long train has been shrouded in an invisible cloak so that all 108 passengers on board (the capacity) can enjoy 24 hours of 1930s cosplay, waited on by fabulously charismatic attendants dressed top-to-tail in gold-trimmed midnight blue (to match the colour of the historic carriages), ready to serve cocktails in art deco tumblers thick enough to withstand any sudden swaying of the train.

The feeling that we have been transported to another dimension that this world can see is only heightened every time we pass through a station and, with their heads buried in their phones, most people on the platform are oblivious to our passage. Those that do acknowledge the train’s presence follow its movement initially with quizzical looks, then – as realisation hits – huge grins of awe, before starting to wave enthusiastically or reach for their phone to capture the fleeting moment.

Like them, my sister and I haven’t lost our enormous “can you believe this?” smiles since we stepped on board. We have to keep reminding ourselves that, outside this bubble, it’s just a regular Tuesday night and, in the commuter trains passing next to us, people are on their way home from work, probably wondering what they can rustle up for dinner from the contents of the fridge.

Meanwhile, we’re dressed in evening gowns and dining on lobster, caviar and an exquisite tricolour chocolate dessert presented in the shape of a carriage of the train, knowing that as soon as that last mouthful is taken we’ll pick up what remains of the delicious bottle of white burgundy we’ve been enjoying with our meal and make our way to 3674, the VSOE’s legendary bar car.

There, the rest of the night is waiting to unfurl in front of us, starting with a live acoustic performance from French folk duo Lilly Wood and the Prick, who have been invited on board by Belmond in a series of special autumn musical performances.

The passengers we are sharing this once-in-a-lifetime journey with are an eclectic mix that would please Agatha Christie: alongside my sister and me, here by the good fortune of the most coveted assignments in travel journalism, most are fulfilling long-held dreams or celebrating a special occasion. There’s a Charleston belle who dazzles in red and who, despite her husband snoozing at the other end of the bar carriage for most of the evening, is determined to be the one lying across the grand piano with a margarita in hand at 1am while the train sits idle in Basel and the rest of us sing New York, New York (she succeeds).

Other characters include a sartorially blessed French Gen Z brother-and-sister duo straight out of a fashion magazine shoot celebrating a birthday, a couple of British empty-nesters enjoying an impromptu short break (and who break the strict “no trainers” dress code with Lily Allen-inspired panache) and a group of Russian-speaking luxury travel advisers who are being wined and dined in the hope they’ll sell to their moneyed clients in Dubai, Baku and beyond the $166,000 a night L’Observatoire whole-carriage suite.

That 23-metre-long penthouse on rails, which is part of the train’s configuration only when booked, has been added specifically to this journey so they can visit it – and I’m offered a tour, too. French artist JR’s (one of those creative types so hip he goes only by his initials) modern twist on traditional design elements such as marquetry and stained-glass is aesthetic perfection, and features like a skylight in the bedroom and a clandestine reading room concealed behind a bookshelf are unexpected and fun.

Yet it’s the original touches in the historic carriages that make this journey so unique in the crowded luxury travel space: the marquetry inlaid by artisans such as Albert Dunn, who also left his imprint on the Titanic, frosted-glass panelling put in place by Rene Lalique, and the same hand-fed coal furnaces that kept passengers warm as when these carriages were first put into service almost 100 years ago by Belgium’s Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits.

When it comes to the accommodation, the snug historic cabins, with banquette seating that converts into twin berths, are a faithful recreation of the original experience, which means a washbasin in the room, shared toilets at the end of each carriage and no shower. Those who don’t need every aspect to be a facsimile of history, particularly when it comes to personal grooming, might want to consider the (pricier) suites, which have been carefully enlarged and reimagined to period style with a labyrinth-like swirl of mother-of-pearl inlaid into the gleaming chestnut-brown wooden wall panelling, and enough space for a small ensuite with shower and a banquette that transforms into a double bed.

That’s where my sister and I collapse, admittedly a little tipsy, when the music winds up just before 2am. Barely more than five hours later we’re awake, cradling cups of fresh coffee as we watch daylight rise over Burgundy. Too quickly the huddled hamlets of the provinces that accompany us while we breakfast on fresh croissants and truffle-infused scrambled eggs give way to the sprawling outer reaches of Paris. Soon we’re following the curve of the Seine, hurtling towards our destination, while packing our bags and saying farewell to new friends as the VSOE glides into Paris’ Gare d’Austerlitz, almost a day to the hour after we left Venice.

“Did that all really just happen? I’m still pinching myself,” my sister texts me later that afternoon from the airport, where she’s waiting for a flight to London. I’m feeling exactly the same. Back among crowds, whose monochrome fashions pair perfectly with Paris’ moody autumn skies, the fabulous kaleidoscope of colours, characters, flavours and details of the past 24 hours seem like the most magnificent dream.

THE DETAILS

Train
An overnight stay in a historic cabin on the classic Venice-to-Paris journey in low season (March) starts at $7114. Suites start at $14,632 and a grand suite starts at $20,487. See belmond.com.

Fly
Emirates flies non-stop from Dubai to Venice’s Marco Polo Airport daily, with multiple non-stop flights a day to Dubai from Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane. See emirates.com.

Stay
Belmond’s legendary Hotel Cipriani on the Venetian island of Giudecca completes the classic VSOE land-and-train combination, although the property shutters between April and October. Doubles from $2700.

Also on Giudecca, the Hilton Molino Stucky Venice occupies a former flour mill, and many of the contemporary-styled rooms have superb water views across the Giudecca Canal towards the Dorsoduro skyline. Doubles from $425.

The writer travelled as a guest of Belmond.